


Coulson and the Cellist

by azicrow, roguebowtie



Series: Sons [5]
Category: Glee, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azicrow/pseuds/azicrow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguebowtie/pseuds/roguebowtie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So… What happened to Coulson… and how in the world did he find Blaine, anyway?  (a fixit fic and a side-story to 'Son of Iron, Son of Mechanic') (Story is PG except for only Chapter 3, can be read by skipping 3 if you want)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author Notes: Had way too much fun writing this.
> 
> A/N2: takes place during the latter half of Son of Iron, Son of Mechanic and the first bit of Paradigm Shift (the sequel). Can be read as a stand alone! :)
> 
> A/N3: There is only one chapter (Chapter 3) deserving of the M rating, the rest is PG

The first thing to register was the soft sound of a rhythmic beep, the hum of machines. Following that was the feel of something covering his nose and mouth giving him a steady stream of stale oxygen, and something pressed into his skin. Hospital sounds. His eyes twitched slightly as he glanced from under his lashes to assess the situation.  
  
“Hello Mr. Coulson,” came a very familiar voice. “I don’t know if you can help, but the strangest thing happened. I appear to have a boyfriend that was impaled.”  
  
His eyes flew open and focused on the figure, squinting slightly against a drugged haze of a blur. He raised his eyebrows. “That happens,” he said, his voice grogged and muffled behind the oxygen mask, understating as always.  
  
“Hmm,” a man in his thirties, with soft chestnut brown hair and dark brown eyes replied. “So I see. Your protection, it’s not much of a shield is it?” He replied reaching for his hand.  
  
Not knowing how much his cover may have been compromised, he squeezed the hand briefly. “You know how the Society for Creative Anachronism can get. ….Newly knighted and barely trained. ….I doubt the boy knew what he was doing…. when we were sparring, but I’m fine,” he said, taking long moments to breathe between phrases.  
  
“Maybe you should take up a different sport,” he replied, running his thumb over the back of Phil’s fingers. “How’re you feeling?”  
  
“I may take back up Parkour…” he breathed before taking a deep breath and smiling slightly. “Fine and dandy, Andy,” he used the old tease to try and release the tension in the other man’s shoulders. “How long was I out?”  
  
He swallowed down the anxiousness, smiling slightly at the name. “Almost two months, I wasn’t sure you were ever going to wake up,” he confessed quietly, before quickly adding. “Your company sent you out here to me instead of keeping you in New York, which surprised me.”  
  
“Portland is fun?” Phil replied. “New York can get busy, I’m sure there were… good reasons.”  
  
“Portland is fun?” he asked with a soft smile kissing the back of Phil’s hand  
  
“Maybe because they wanted me to recover near you,” Phil said. “So… you wouldn’t have to take some,” He sighed, closing his eyes a moment as a wave of dizziness was fought back. “So you wouldn’t have to take time from the Symphony.”  
  
He smiled a little. “That’s nice, you talk about me to your work friends?” Andy asked, stroking the side of Phil’s face, concerned.  
  
“Why not? Business isn’t always boring.”  
  
He shook his head. “It’s just …nice. That’s all.”  
  
Phil looked tired, pale, but his colouring was starting to return despite feeling exhausted. “Please tell me you haven’t spent all your time here,” he replied, watching him.   
  
He smiled. “I tried to, but the patients complained about my playing, apparently they have no taste,” he replied with a chuckle, before shrugging. “I came outside of rehearsals and performances, and when I couldn’t be here - my sister was.”  
  
Phil smiled softly. “Thank you,” he said, before looking at the door as a nurse and doctor came in.  
  
Andy stepped to the side nervously as the doctors had a look at Phil. Explaining his situation. Phil answered their questions more quickly than they expected, then asked when he would be allowed to go home. When they spoke of not being left on his own, Andy spoke up. “You could stay with me. You’ll be on sick leave anyway.”  
  
“I’d like that. I’ve always been quick to recover, anyhow,” Phil told them.  
  
“Give it a few days, and we’ll see,” the doctor conceded before he and the nurse finished taking information down and walked from the room.  
  
“I promise not to be in the way,” Phil quirked a smile at his boyfriend.  
  
“We’ll see,” he replied diplomatically, before his smile widened. “It’ll be nice to be able to keep an eye on you.”  
  
“I’m glad I woke up to you,” Phil replied. “Not that Anne isn’t delightful in her own way, but-” he smiled.  
  
His smile faded and he leaned down kissing his lips softly. “I’m glad you  _woke up_ , at all,” he whispered, heartfelt.  
  
Phil had one hand left free of IV lines, and he brought it up into Andy’s soft brown curls, pulling him into another kiss. “I don’t break easily,” he promised him.  
  
He pulled away, taking a deep breath and blinking rapidly. “Damn it… I swore I wouldn’t cry,” he said, looking away.  
  
“You’re allowed,” he replied, brushing at his cheek with his thumb. “Go get something to eat, I’m just,” Phil couldn’t hide the yawn, considering his hand was busy. “I’ll take a nap. I’m not going anywhere yet, Andy.”  
  
He nodded. “I’ll go when you fall asleep, it’s okay. “  
  
“It’s good to see you,” he replied, letting his hand drop, squeezing Andy’s arm, then clasping his hand as he closed his eyes. One thing that could be said about Phil Coulson was that when he decided to sleep, he slept almost immediately.  
  
Andy looked at him for a moment, before laughing softly and pressing a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be back.” he whispered before stepping out of the room.  
  
*******  
  
Phil was released in just two days, having proved his claim of being a quick healer. He looked out the window as Andrew drove him home, and carefully climbed out of the car once they’d arrived.  
  
“Home sweet home,” Andy said, holding the door open for him.  
  
Phil stepped in, rubbing at the fresh scar on his chest, surprised it itched. “I’ll never get over how homey your place is,” he replied.  
  
“Well, it’s a  _home_  so that probably helps.” he replied amused. “Not all of us enjoy the minimalist look.”  
  
“I never said I didn’t like it,” Phil said, pausing in the doorway and taking it all in as he did every time he came to visit.  
  
Andy watched him before picking up his bag and carrying it to the bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable,” he called.  
  
Phil nodded, stretching out his shoulder a little as he went to the bookshelf to see if there was anything new there since the last time he’d visited.  
  
“I moved some of my stuff so you can use half my wardrobe, and this drawer, whilst you’re in Portland,” the younger man called out, unpacking the bag.  
  
“You didn’t have to do that, you know I’m fine with living out of a suitcase.” Phil’s lips quirked as he found the Principia Discordia, and plucked it off the shelf. That was always an enjoyable read. He’d been awake less than a week, and already he was feeling stir crazy.  
  
“I want to,“ he replied, hanging the suits up. “Phil… do you have anything more… casual in here?” he asked.  
  
“I have casual,” Phil protested, walking in and pointing out a few button down shirts that weren’t starched and bleached white. “See? That’s casual.”  
  
He laughed. “I need to introduce you to t shirts,” he teased.  
  
“I’m sure that isn’t necessary,” he replied, watching him a moment before walking up and pulling him down into a kiss.  
  
Andy kissed him back in surprise before melting into it, and pulling him in. “One won’t kill you,” he replied before taking another and then setting the bag away. “There we go, you’re moved in,” he said, before looking at the book. “You always pick that one.”  
  
“It’s entertaining. Pure madness, for the sake of madness. I like reading it when I visit,” he replied.  
  
“Because I remind you of madness?” he asked, letting him go, before going to make some coffee.  
  
“No.”  
  
Andy chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh wait, did the doctor say you could have coffee?”  
  
“My lung, Andy, not my heart,” he replied. “I can have coffee.”  
  
“Well I don’t want accelerants to interfere with your medication,” he replied as he started up the maker.  
  
“Please don’t baby me, I want to get back in shape as soon as possible.” Phil leaned against the counter and held one foot out, rotating the ankle. “My muscles have weakened from disuse more than I’d like.”  
  
Andy gave him a chastising look. “If you rush you’ll just injure yourself further. Work can do without you for a little while.”  
  
“I believe I’m a bit more capable of understanding my body’s limits than you give me credit for, Andy.”  
  
Andy fell quiet, refusing to get into a fight over it, as he poured out the coffee silently.  
  
Phil watched him for several moments before walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come here.”  
  
Andy sighed, stirring the milk into his coffee before letting himself get pulled away.  
  
Despite being smaller, more compact, Phil pulled Andy into an embrace and held him tightly, ignoring the slight twinge in his chest. His embrace wasn’t as strong as he’d have liked, having been inactive for so long, but it was strong enough. Firm. “I’m here. Okay? Nothing’s going to happen to me.”  
  
Andy frowned. “I watched you for over a month, just sleeping….” He trailed off finding it hard to find the words. “Do you know what that’s like? Knowing how close you were to dying?”  
  
“I can imagine,” Phil replied. “But I didn’t. You can’t focus on what if, when it’s done with now.”  
  
“You can’t imagine, don’t tell me you can. I’ve never been impaled by anything.” He snapped at him before giving in his muscles relaxing as he held onto him.  
  
“You play Cello. I live in fear a jealous violinist will impale you with her bow every day,” he teased, rubbing his back a little and keeping his hold on him.  
  
He smiled a little. “Maybe the second cellist perhaps,” he whispered, breathing him in.  
  
“Nah, they already have a cello. No whiny high notes for them,” Phil squeezed a little tighter before letting go, grasping Andy’s arms and looking at him. “I’m tougher than I look, please believe that.”  
  
“I do.” he replied. “I’ve seen what’s under that shirt,” he teased a little, before kissing his forehead. “Go on and sit down before you tire yourself out.”  
  
“Not an invalid,” Phil grumped back with an appeasing smile, sitting at the table as he was told. For now.  
  
“For now you are,” he replied, handing him his mug. “Let me fuss over you for a bit.”  
  
“Please, please tell me you aren’t making me take the guest room,” he replied over the rim of his cup before taking a sip.  
  
He laughed, “God no.” He replied. “You’re staying with me.”  
  
“Good answer,” Phil grinned.  
  
*  
  
Late that night, after the house was quiet, Phil slipped out of bed and made his way to the living room and started with some stretches, testing his strength and his muscles. First legs, not too difficult. He was having difficulty with his upper left side, however, setting his push-ups lopsided.  
  
Fifteen minutes into it - Andy stood in the doorway sleepily, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jamb as he watched. “It’s the middle of the night,” he whispered.  
  
“Shh, let me pretend you’re asleep,” Phil wasn’t startled in the least and frowned to himself as he rolled over and sat up, rubbing a hand over his head. “Why are you up?”  
  
He shrugged. “When I couldn’t feel you, I was… I was worried I’d dreamt it,” he shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure. I can leave, if you like,” he replied, scratching his jaw.  
  
“You can stay if you want. I’m almost done anyhow. I didn’t want to bother you,” Phil replied, pushing himself up off the floor.  
  
“You’re not bothering me,” he replied, rubbing his face tiredly.  
  
“You’re dead on your feet,” Phil said, scratching at the scar. “Let’s get you back to bed, I promise I’ll stay this time.”  
  
“Are you sure you’ve finished?”  
  
“I can be, for now. I’ll make up for it while you’re at rehearsal tomorrow,” he replied, walking over and placing his hand at the small of his boyfriend’s back.  
  
He nodded. “Alright,” he replied, running a hand through his messy hair.  
  
Phil reached up and did the same, pushing his fingers through as he led him back into the bedroom.  
  
He climbed into bed before lifting up the covers for Phil to climb in, settling back into the warmth.  
  
Phil pulled Andy immediately into his arms, kissing the back of his shoulder. “Go to sleep,” he told him. “I’m here.”  
  
He hummed softly before falling back to sleep.  
  
Phil thought for several long moments, before kissing the back of Andy’s shoulder one more time, falling silently to sleep afterward.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days had passed and Andy had returned to the orchestra, coming back after practice one day with a pleased smile on his face.

  
Phil finished his pull-ups, fingertips pressing into the lintel above the door before he dropped to his feet with his eyebrows raised. “You look happy.”  
  
“Should you be doing all of that?” he asked with concern as he fished a package out of his bag.  
  
“I’m not overdoing it. I was going to settle in and put Supernanny on the DVR, try to catch up a bit. I’ve been busy even before the coma. Explain the smile?” he asked, walking over and looking on curiously.  
  
“I got you a present. Well, I found it a while ago - but I thought you’d like it. They started making loads of these whilst you were… you know,” he replied softly. “A lot happened. I don’t know how much you remember, but there was an attack on the day of your accident. Anyway, the Avengers fought it off and they started putting these Captain America action figures into production.” He handed him the parcel. “I thought you’d like one.”  
  
“It must have been before the attack, but I read some about it online,” Phil answered. He hadn’t dug too deeply, he wanted to wait until he was back in form before he did that. There was time, still. A few more weeks, at the least. He eagerly reached for the gift, opening it and looking at the figurine inside with pure, childish glee. “That’s amazing!”  
  
He smiled. “I thought you’d like it. I swear, he must be the only man that could steal you away,” he replied fondly.  
  
“He wouldn’t steal me away,” Phil reassured him. “The Captain is one hundred percent noble gentleman,” he teased.  
  
Andy laughed softly. “Even more dangerous then.”   
  
“I don’t know about that. I have a doting cellist whose affections I seem to have all to myself,” he replied calmly; even though he may, possibly (but would deny it if anyone told on him), be hugging the box to his chest.  
  
He glanced down at the box and rolled his eyes giving his boyfriend an indulgent kiss. “I never stood a chance,” he teased.  
  
Phil set the box down and grabbed him close. “Neither did I,” he said before returning the kiss with a firm, thorough one of his own.  
  
He looked at him in surprise as they broke off. “Umm thank you?” he asked, flushing as he sat down.  
  
“You have me, like it or not. Nobody’s going to change that,” he said, moving to make him a cup of coffee.  
  
He laughed softly. “Honestly I don’t mind if you have a crush on him.” He replied fondly “It’s not like we know him.”  
  
“Indeed,” he replied, coming back with two mugs and sitting beside him.  
  
He smiled and took one. “I do draw the line at putting a poster of him up in our room though.”  
  
“Darn.” Phil said calmly. “I need to start collecting the cards again, mine seem to have gone missing in the accident,” he sighed.  
  
“But those took you years, they were in mint condition!” he replied with a frown.  
  
“With a little foxing at the edges but… yes. I know,” he replied calmly. He knew he couldn’t call and ask what happened to them. If they didn’t arrive with his things, then something had surely happened. Besides, he had to keep radio silence until he was called, that was protocol for being undercover like this. He was still on the mend, after all.  
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
“It’s not your fault,” he told him. “Come watch Supernanny with me?” he offered.  
  
“You know we don’t have kids, right?” he asked.  
  
“Trust me, some of the people I work with are like children.” He paused a moment. “Such as my boss.”  
  
“Your boss is a child?” he asked, amused as he took a sip.  
  
“When he doesn’t get his way? Yes. A sneaky manipulative child,” Phil nodded with certainty.  
  
He watched him curiously. “You don’t talk about him much, about work much at all. “  
  
“It’s office work, it’s not very exciting.”  
  
“I sit in an orchestra all day, you still know that Gareth keeps riling Tamara up by stealing her labelled food from the fridge in the practice rooms.”   
  
“They’re still not dating?” Phil asked mildly.  
  
He shook his head, “He’d actually need to grow up long enough to ask her out,” he replied.  
  
“I see the problem.”  
  
“You’re changing the subject,” he replied giving him a pointed look.  
  
“I thought we were talking about Gareth’s food stealing habit.”  
  
“No, I was talking about how you know all about my work, and I really don’t know anything about yours - except what you do.”  
  
“Which is, admittedly, not very interesting.”  
  
“As interesting as Gareth and Tamara?” he replied wryly.  
  
“I do a lot of paperwork,” Phil replied with a mild shrug.  
  
“So? I can handle paperwork,” he replied watching him. “There’s no one else in your office?”  
  
“Sure there are. They’re also boring.”  
  
Andy rolled his eyes, relenting. “Fine. I can’t force you to talk about work.”  
  
“There really isn’t anything exciting about paperwork,” he chuckled.  
  
“It’s not about that, it’s about the fact that I look at you sometimes and I don’t… it sounds odd, but sometimes I feel like there are parts that are secret.” He shrugged, “Even if it’s mundane it’s what you spend most of your life doing. I was just curious.”  
  
Phil thought for a moment, sipping at what was left of his coffee. “There’s one guy who insists on sending his paperwork page by page, folded into paper airplanes,” he commented, thinking of Clint.  
  
He glanced at him in surprise. “Why?” he asked, watching him, his chin on his hand.  
  
“He keeps hoping it’ll get him out of doing any of it, I imagine. Or, more likely, he’s bored out of his mind.”  
  
He smiled. “That sounds more interesting than pulling pigtails, to me.”  
  
“I’d have to say that’s the only interesting thing that happens - but after a few years of it, it really just gets dull,” Phil finished his cup and stood, bringing the mug to the sink and rinsing it out. Thinking about Clint hurt. He’d seen some of the news reports, and it  _looked_  like he was fighting on their side again - but he had no confirmation one way or the other, and the thought of his friend still being compromised… was unpleasant.  
  
“Maybe one day you can bring one home.”  
  
Unlikely. “Are you home for the night, or do you have a performance?”  
  
“I’m here for the night,” he replied. “It’s a respite before a series of performances at the end of the month,” he replied.  
  
Phil nodded. “Supernanny?”  
  
“Supernanny.” He agreed with a smile reaching for his hand.  
  
*******  
  
“Phil?” Andy called as he walked in, hanging up his jacket and walking into the living room. He stretched before collapsing in the sofa toeing off his trainers as he switched on the tv. “Are you in?” he called.  
  
“Just a moment!” he called back, a minute later entering the livingroom freshly showered. He sat down beside Andy and gave him a kiss. “Glad to have you back.”  
  
He laughed softly. “I was only at work, not the ends of the earth.”   
  
“That doesn’t mean I’m not glad you’re home,” he replied. “What did you put on?”   
  
He laughed. “Don’t worry, you have time before Supernanny, I just want to see the news,” he replied patting the sofa beside him.  
  
Phil scooted over. “Fair enough,” he replied, resting a hand on his boyfriend’s lap as he watched with him.  
  
 _“However, I have something more important to say, and I want to make sure everybody hears this. News stations? I’m trusting you to show the footage of the next few minutes every hour until I can say things have changed. I want there to be ticker tape running on the bottom of every screen in the world.”  
  
“One of my sons was kidnapped, just feet from his boyfriend’s car, as they were on their way home after Pride celebrations in Columbus Ohio - one month ago, today.”_  
  
Phil straightened, his eyes trained on the screen, every line of his body attentive.  
  
“I didn’t even know he had a son.” Andy replied his fingers idly playing with Phil’s. “Poor kid.”  
  
Phil put up his free hand in a gesture to hush him, keeping his attention on the screen.  
  
 _  
Everyone started talking at once, wanting to ask questions, but Tony held his hand up. “QUIET! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. Now. Listen. My son, Blaine Anderson, was kidnapped the night of June Sixteenth. This is one of his most recent pictures,” one came up on the screen of Blaine and Kurt just after Nationals. “By the way, his hair is naturally curly, just in case he doesn’t have any gel on him. If you have seen him, if you even THINK you have seen my tiny little boy - and yes, he’s little, I’ve got half an inch on him - Please. Call the local authorities, hell, Nine One One. Tell them. Help us find my son, help us get him home.”  
  
The screen switched back to Tony, his pleading look changed to a glare as he looked straight into the camera. “And you. Whoever you are? You took my son. He had better be in amazing condition when we find him, and we will. Because you know what? Each of the Avengers cares about that boy - and we WILL get him back. Whether you survive the process is questionable.”  
  
He glanced at everyone. “I’ll just give you the information on the energy when my son is back. There, have incent-”_  
  
Phil had stood, turning off the television before going to the kitchen. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. If someone had gone to the trouble of finding Stark’s son, that  _someone_  was not to be lightly written off.  
  
Andy stared as the tv was switched off and his boyfriend walked away. “Phil… are you okay?” he called.  
  
“I think I’ll make dinner tonight,” Phil replied, already getting things out of the refrigerator. He wasn’t mending nearly as quickly as he’d like. Granted, it was quicker than most folks, but it wasn’t enough. He would have to step up his re-training regimen.  
  
“You look spooked,” he said from the doorway.  
  
Phil had gotten himself under control, despite the brief lapse. “Not spooked. Just worried - I never like hearing about kids being kidnapped.”  
  
“No one does, really, but it happens. There are some sick people out there.”  
  
“There are,” Phil agreed.  _More than you realise_ , he thought privately. “What do you think about meatloaf? Nice and simple, but tasty.”  
  
He nodded. “Meatloaf’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Phil reassured him.  
  
“Okay,” he replied before walking in and kissing behind his ear. “I’ll go and wash up, then.  
  
Phil watched him go with a fond smile, and set to work.  
  
*******  
  
The final message on the answering machine was the voice of a no-nonsense sort of man.  _“Mister Coulson, I’m just calling to let you know that you can take as long as you need for your recovery. We’ve got a few interns in, and the accounts are under control without your tender care. Don’t worry, you’re still on sick pay, you’ve got enough of it coming to you - it’ll probably be a while before you’ll_ have _to come back. Take your time, rest up, get better.”_   ***click***  
  
Andy shook his head bemused. “I should hope he can take as long as he needs,” he muttered. “Strange people.” He hummed before continuing his practice, the notes filling the apartment as he waited for Phil to return.  
  
He got back from his run, shutting the door gently behind himself. Phil took off his trainers and went to get a glass of water before he would go change into clean clothes. “I’m back!” he called.  
  
“Work phoned,” Andy called, before setting his bow aside.  
  
“Did they? When do they need me back?” Phil asked, standing in the doorway in a t-shirt and sweats, still a bit shiny from his run. Of course it was a Captain America t-shirt, but at least it didn’t button down. He motioned with his glass of water before drinking it down.  
  
“They don’t, at least not yet. The message is on the answering machine. It basically says ‘take your time and you have interns’ or something like that.”  
  
Phil sighed, nodding. “Alright.”  
  
“Are you going stir crazy?”   
  
“A little bit,” he admitted. “Mostly I’m worried about the state of things when I get back. If my boss says they have things covered, that usually means my paperwork is in a neat pile, instead of strewn all over the offices.”  
  
“Maybe they’ll be in lots of tiny origami cranes,” he teased before pulling him over. “Phil, you can stop worrying about it. Concentrate on healing yourself, instead.”  
  
Phil went to him easily, shaking his head. “Oh, I’ll concentrate,” he reassured him. “I’m very good at concentrating.”  
  
“Why do I have a feeling you’ll only concentrate so you can get back to work?”  
  
“I  _did_  tell you about the fellow with the paper airplanes,” Phil countered. He needed to find out what happened to him. And if he had managed to shake the compromise… who was there to be Clint and Natasha’s handler? Nobody had the extraction success rate he did when things went south. And, with Barton especially, things went south plenty.  
  
“I’m sure someone can unfold paper,” he replied.  
  
“It has to be done a certain way, he insists on using smudgy ink,” Phil replied.  
  
“I think perhaps you take your work a little too seriously, Phil.”  
  
“I could take a shower, and then I can take  _you_  seriously,” Phil offered, eyebrows raised.  
  
A smile crossed his lips. “A lovely thought,” he replied, biting his lip. “However, don’t you think the exertion might be a little much for you?”  
  
“It’s been three weeks since I woke. I just came back from a three mile run, and my push ups are barely lopsided. I think I can handle it,” he smirked slightly.  
  
His blush deepened and he ducked his head. “It has been a while…” he replied thoughtfully, before shaking his head. “I’d hate myself if you got injured again.”  
  
“Not injured. Totally healed. Just getting back into shape,” Phil promised.  
  
He looked at him before nodding with a gentle smile. “Go and wash up, then. I’ll put my cello away.”  
  
Phil smiled back, giving him a nod before setting his glass in the sink on his way to the bathroom.  
  
Andy grinned helplessly before making his way upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((This chapter has the mature content, and may be skipped if that isn't your cuppa))

Phil washed up quickly and efficiently, as always, and dressed in fresh clothing before going off in search of Andy.  
  
When he found him, Andy smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Mmm you smell much better now.”  
  
“So glad I’m not assaulting your olfactory nerves,” Phil chuckled, setting his dirty laundry in the hamper.  
  
He laughed softly. “I’m just glad you don’t smell of gym socks anymore.”  
  
Phil put a hand behind Andy’s neck, tugging him close. “No gym socks,” he agreed, pulling him into a kiss.  
  
Andy smiled kissing him gratefully. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his hands sliding up under Phil’s shirt as he pushed him to the bed.  
  
“You should have said so sooner,” he replied, pulling him down and rolling them over to devour his mouth with his own, hands sliding into his hair.  
  
He moaned softly. “I wanted you to be strong enough,” he whispered, pulling off Phil’s shirt.  
  
He pulled away just long enough to put it aside, speaking into Andy’s mouth while they kissed, slotting their bodies together with a desperation usually considered belonging to teenagers. “Always strong enough for you,” he replied.  
  
He laughed softly. “Boasting now?” he asked, pulling at his lip with his teeth as he pulled at the rest of Phil’s clothes.  
  
Phil was working just as quickly to rid Andy of his clothing, single mindedly kissing as much skin as he could manage while doing so.  
  
Andy tumbled, pulling him in tight, his mouth sliding down to Phil’s throat as he kissed rough and desperate. Clothing was tossed onto the chair beside the bed, strong hands mapping lithe muscle.  
  
Andy pulled his head up and kissed him deeply, his hand skirting around the new skin , careful of the injury.  
  
Phil grasped his hand, fingertips calloused from pressing against the strings of his instrument, and pressed it tightly over the mark on his chest. “I won’t break,” he told him. “See? All healed,” he promised, leaning in for a possessive kiss once more , holding him tight and close.  
  
Andy let out a ragged breath, his hand splaying across it as he arched up to him, catching his mouth in a relieved, ravenous kiss.  
  
Phil pulled away, reaching for the bedstand and pulling open the drawer, one hand blindly searching the contents as he attached his lips to Andy’s shoulder.  
  
He broke the kiss to mouth down his throat, his hands dragging down his back.  
  
Phil grunted softly, pulling away, “What did you do, hide them?” he asked, pushing around in the drawer before coming up with the lube and a strip of condoms. He tossed them on the bed and went about kissing his way down Andy’s body.  
  
He laughed softly, watching him. “I’ve not needed them in a while.”  
  
“Is that your way of telling me to make up for lost time?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow as he kissed Andy’s belly.  
  
He laughed. “If it helps,” he replied, stroking his fingers through his hair  
  
Phil smiled softly and nipped at Andy’s hip bone, before swallowing him down in one go, his hand reaching for the lubrication.  
  
He moaned, letting his head fall back and giving a light roll of his hips, before settling back into the mattress.  
  
He swallowed him down, nose pressing into the dark curls at the base before pulling back to the tip, swirling his tongue around the head and dipping into the slit before swallowing him down again, all the while opening the lube one handed and squeezing some onto his fingers.  
  
“Phil,” he called out, his hands clenching the sheets as he fought from thrusting up, his breath catching in his throat.  
  
He pulled back, slipping one hand down, running his slick fingers along the crack, stroking at the pucker. “It’s okay to move,” he told him. “Don’t hold back,” he said before sucking him down again, head bobbing slowly.  
  
Andy let out a whimper before bucking his hips up into the wet heat, his thighs shifting at the feel of the finger teasing him.  
  
Phil groaned around him, taking every inch hungrily as he pressed his finger inside, slowly thrusting it in and out.  
  
He groaned in pleasure his hips rising as he writhed, before before pulling him up, wanting to get at his mouth again.  
  
He groaned low, kissing him back, crooking the finger inside Andy as they plundered each other’s mouths.  
  
He let out a cry into Phil’s mouth as he dragged his hands down his back, pulling him in possessively.  
  
He took the opportunity to add a second finger, stretching him with shallow thrusts and crooking fingers, pressing against the nub inside him as he nipped at his lower lip.  
  
Andy hooked his leg up around him, grinding in together. His fingers dragging along strong planes of muscle down the length of his back  
  
Phil ground back, sucking places along Andy’s skin, but only leaving marks places his clothes would cover. He pressed his thumb to his perineum as he slid in a third finger.  
  
Andy let out a sudden moan, shifting around his fingers, his rear pushing back onto the intrusion. Andy whispered out Phil’s name, his voice fading in the air.  
  
He smiled softly against his shoulder, pushing up to look down on him, writhing and debauched. “Ready?” he asked, pressing his fingers in over and over again, only slowing down a little.  
  
Andy nodded, his skin flushed and burning to the touch. “Hell yes,” he replied with a breathless laugh.  
  
He nipped at his shoulder before pulling back. He opened the first packet and slipped on the condom, slicking more lubrication over it before pulling his fingers from Andy’s body to lift one leg over his arm. Slowly, he guided himself inside.  
  
Andy’s fingers dug in as he was filled slowly, his body straining, it really had been a while since they had done this last.  
  
“Shh,” Phil soothed him, pausing to give him a moment. He began moving in shallow thrusts, inching his way gently inside. “We have all the time in the world.”  
  
Andy nodded before turning his head for a slow kiss as he settled around him and gently moved his hips into the small movements  
  
Phil kissed him back slowly, gently making love to him in soft thrusts until he was fully inside, staying a moment so they both could adjust.  
  
Andy’s grip loosened and turned into a slow caress down to Phil’s lower back and his rear. The kiss long and languid, as he savoured every inch of his mouth.  
  
Slow strokes of tongue against tongue, hands moving gently, touching all they could reach. After a few long moments, Phil began to move, slowly, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting fully inside once more, proving he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.  
  
Andy cried out in pleasure, hugging him close as he thrust back against him.  
  
He pressed slow and sure, increasing his pace so slowly it was almost indiscernible. One hand slipped between them, wrapping around Andy’s erection and stroking along with each move of their hips.  
  
“Phil.” He whispered as he buried his face into the crook of Phil’s neck. His movements grew a little more frantic and desperate.  
  
“I’ve got you,” he told him, one hand grasping his thigh as the other kept moving over his erection, hips snapping hard and fast.  
  
Andy whimpered, holding onto him, cries breaking free as he came passionately in his arms, climaxing against him.  
  
Phil stroked him through it, hips snapping against his boyfriend’s prostate half a dozen times more before he stilled, groaning his own climax quietly into Andy’s shoulder, arm tight around him.  
  
Andy turned his head kissing him as he settled warm and sated. “I’ve missed you so much. Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered.  
  
“I can’t promise that,” Phil said as he gently pulled out, removing and tying off the condom, throwing it unerringly into the trash can before pulling Andy against him. “But I’ll do my best,” he murmured into his curls.  
  
“You’re lucky I love you, you know that?” he whispered, tightening his arms around him as he settled in.  
  
“I know that.” He kissed him beneath his ear. “I love you too,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, we can clean up later.”  
  
He nodded silently, burying his face in his neck and holding on, not daring to let go as he slowly dozed off.  
  
Phil pressed his lips to his temple, gently stroking a hand through his curls, listening to his breath even out before allowing himself to doze off as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Phil had been working very hard to get himself back up to par. It was important to him to get back to work, not only to return to his role as Hawkeye and Black Widow’s handler - but to help search for Blaine.  
  
Parkour had been a hobby for him since before it had the popularity it was beginning to enjoy. He pushed himself, running through the streets of Portland, darting up walls and vaulting over stairs, leaping and hurdling anything in his path, taking the quickest path possible.   
  
As he traveled, he recalled the first time he’d met the boy, if only briefly. He recalled how polite he was, and genuine with his grin. He was a good kid. No kid deserved kidnapping, but that kid deserved it less than most.  
  
That he’d been yanked by someone who was obviously after Stark made it that much more worrying.  
  
He climbed over a fence, dropping to the ground on the other side, when he noticed a wallet lying on the ground near the wall. He paused and, being who he was, picked it up so he could return it to its owner.  
  
Opening the battered and weather-worn wallet had his blood run cold.  
  
The first thing he saw was a drivers license, which was what he was looking for in the first place.   
  
The image was a familiar face, bearing a familiar grin.  
  
Blaine Anderson was in Portland, or had been at one point. It would be foolish to think he had lost it innocently, considering the boy hadn’t been further west than Ohio (barring visiting his father a few times) and never as far to the north west as Oregon.  
  
Blaine was here.  
  
Phil looked up, glancing round. It was likely the boy had thrown it over the fence, seeing how it had landed on the ground, so Phil hauled himself up and over the way he’d come, before beginning to reconnoiter the area. He would have been found again, if he’d escaped - otherwise he’d have found his way home by now.   
  
In that case…  
  
Phil’s eyes rested on the industrial park not too far away.   
  
It was time to investigate.  
  
*  
  
Phil wasn’t home, though he’d told Andy to expect him to have supper ready by the time he returned from the symphony. The stove was cold, the lights were off.  
  
Andy walked in and called for him. Ever since the accident, he’d always been very careful about making sure he knew where Phil was. He frowned, growing concerned as he searched each room before pulling out his phone, his fingers fumbling the number until he finally managed to call him.  
  
Phil tapped his bluetooth, answering in a whisper. “Coulson.”  
  
“Where are you Phil? You weren’t home.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” his voice was quiet. “I’ll be home in forty minutes, I can pick something up on my way.”  
  
“Why are you so quiet?” he asked suspicious.  
  
“Hide and go seek. I ran across a young mother having trouble with her children in the park and offered to play with them while she brought her youngest to the bathroom.”  
  
It wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d done so… years ago.  
  
“I…” That hadn’t been the answer he’d expected. “A woman’s just left you alone with her kids?”  
  
“I’ll be home soon,” Phil promised before disconnecting the call.  
  
Andy stared at the phone, confused, before sitting down on the sofa at a loss.  
  
*  
  
Exactly forty minutes passed and Phil returned, the smell of Chinese food entering with him.  
  
“Hide and seek? Really?”   
  
Phil shrugged, setting out the containers on the table. “I’m going to take a quick shower and join you in a minute.”  
  
“Okay,” he replied pulling out the plates.  
  
Phil took his shower, then dressed in the bedroom while making a quick phone call. His voice was quiet, but firm, the words indistinct.  
  
Andy set everything out before heading upstairs to call him for dinner.  
  
“…information for you to look over on the flight over before I go to bed. I suggest you all listen to the good Captain and go to sleep, kids.” Phil touched his earpiece and finished tucking his shirt in before opening the door. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Andy just on the other side.  
  
“Dinner.” He said softly. “You know, work can probably manage without you for a little longer.”  
  
“Probably,” he replied, kissing his cheek before wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him back down to the kitchen, “but helping out a little won’t hurt anyone.”  
  
He nodded. “Just… Phil, leave a note or something, next time.”  
  
“I will. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”  
  
“It’s okay,” he replied begrudgingly. “I suppose I am being a little over cautious. I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”  
  
Phil said nothing to that, only tightening his arm around his waist.  
  
“I am stealing one of your spring rolls though, because you worried me.”  
  
He chuckled. “You do that, Andy.”  
  
Andy smiled. “You’re supposed to be put out, not happy about it,” he teased.  
  
“I prefer you happy with me,” he replied with an eyebrow raised, pulling out Andy’s chair for him once they were in the kitchen.  
  
“There you go ruining my fun by being sweet.”   
  
Phil passed him his spring roll. “Eat up before it gets cold,” he replied with a smile.  
  
“Thanks,” he replied, eating it with a soft chuckle before pouring noodles onto his plate.  
  
* * *  
  
Phil pulled Andy close to him as he woke, keeping him safe in his arms for the moment.  
  
Andy hummed softly before stirring. “What time is it?” he mumbled.  
  
“Six thirty, you can afford to go back to sleep for a little,” he assured him quietly.  
  
He sighed softly watching him, a little dazed still. “Why are you up?” he whispered.  
  
“I’m an early riser,” he said, pulling him just a little closer and kissing the back of his shoulder.  
  
He smiled, settling into the touch. “Mmm too early,” he teased enjoying the attention.  
  
“Go back to sleep and I’ll just hold you,” he murmured back.  
  
He glanced back at him curious. “Okay,” he whispered. “Are you alright?”  
  
Phil smiled softly. “I’m fine.”  
  
“Okay,” he whispered, pulling Phil’s arms tighter around him as he settled in to sleep.  
  
Phil closed his eyes, listening to him breathe, his scent around him, him warm and heavy in his arms, and held him close…. Just in case.  
  
*  
  
Nine thirty, Phil gently ran a hand up and down Andy’s arm to wake him.  
  
Andy stirred again, turning as he woke. “Whaizit?” he mumbled, his eyes opening  
  
“Nine thirty,” he replied, kissing his shoulder.  
  
“Oh, okay,” he mumbled before sitting up, running a hand through his hair sleepily.  
  
Phil sat up, too. “I’ll make breakfast while you shower,” he offered.  
  
“Thank you,” he replied with a fond smile, giving him a sleepy kiss before climbing out of the bed.  
  
Phil smiled after him, before getting up and dressing comfortably in his usual suit, heading down to make breakfast for the two of them. It wasn’t long before the scent of eggs, pancakes, and bacon wafted through the house.  
  
Andy came down in jeans and a t-shirt before sitting at the table with a happy smile. “Smells good.”  
  
“I hope so, you’re eating half of it,” he said, setting a plate in front of him.  
  
He laughed. “I could get used to this pampering,” he teased.  
  
“You won’t let me help pay the bills while I’m staying here, so at least I can cook for you,” he replied, setting down some coffee and orange juice before sitting down with his own plate.  
  
He smiled softly. “Well, I want it to feel like home for you,” he replied, digging into his pancakes.  
  
“If I were living with you, you’d let me help with the bills,” Phil pointed out.  
  
“True, but as it’s temporary - I can take cooking in kind.”   
  
He laughed, giving him a grin. “Hence the cooking.”  
  
“Hence the cooking,” he murmured with a smile. “It’s lovely, are you heading off on a jog this morning?”   
  
“I’ll probably go just around lunchtime,” Phil replied. “You’ve got a matinee and two evening shows today?” he asked.  
  
“No, that’s this weekend, it’s a matinee and then an orchestra meeting,” he replied. “So I’ll still be home late tonight, I’m sorry.”  
  
Phil nodded. At least he’d be out of the house and wouldn’t miss him if it took longer than he expected for the extraction. “It’s alright, Andy. Maybe I’ll get around to finishing that book,” he teased.  
  
He chuckled. “I hope not, it seems to be the only thing that’s keeping you from going stir crazy.”  
  
“I will refrain from pointing out how Discordian ‘theology’ keeping me from going crazy is ridiculous,” he teased.  
  
Andy shrugged. “It makes sense to me,” he replied as he finished and drained his coffee. “Okay. I’d better go, or I’ll be late,” he said, leaning in and taking a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”  
  
“Have a good day.” Phil kissed him again. “I love you.”  
  
Andy came to a sudden stop and kissed him again. “I love you too…” he replied carefully.  
  
Phil smiled softly, patting his cheek. “Go on, I’ll clean up,” he told him.  
  
He nodded, watching him. The last time Phil’d said ‘I love you’ was when he’d left for Portland. It had ended up with Phil being impaled. He was a little wary of the phrase, now. “Okay. Bye,” he replied softly before grabbing his jacket and running out of the door.  
  
Phil watched the door click shut, before cleaning up and making sure the house was fully in order. Instead of picking up the book, like he’d said he would, he pulled out the plans he’d made on his laptop - the very plans he’d sent to Jarvis in the night after Andy was asleep - and went over the information one last time.  
  
*  
  
The orchestral meeting had been cancelled, so he had come home early to surprise Phil. He opened the door before coming to a sudden stop, staring at the people within, his hand on the key in the lock as he looked around at the bruised, battered, and bleeding collection of people. The mass of bandages and tissues littering the room. “Jesus Christ! What’s happened?” he exclaimed.  
  
Phil glanced up from where he was placing a butterfly stitch at Kurt’s hairline. Others were strewn around the room, the Stark ‘family’ huddled together on the sofa in the corner, Lea holding onto Blaine tightly. Natasha was bandaging Clint’s shoulder, and Steve was relatively unscathed and in the open kitchen making pancakes for everyone.  
  
Phil glanced up at his boyfriend calmly, then went back to cleaning the cut, before putting on the butterfly stitch and a bandaid over that. “You did say you wanted to meet my co-workers, Andy,” he quipped.  
  
“Oooh! Is this the Cellist?!” Clint piped up from his spot, ducking the slap Natasha aimed at his head.  
  
“I thought you were a business account…” he trailed off as Thor appeared from the bathroom. “Fuck,” he whispered before stepping back and shaking his head, his face pale as he stepped in once more and noticed the family in the corner as he shut the door. “That’s the boy from…. Phil. Why is Tony Stark is in our livingroom?”  
  
“He’s having some family time,” Phil said, patting Kurt on the shoulder and turning the boy loose.  
  
“Son of Coul! Is this your beloved Minstrel?” Thor boomed as he walked over and reached to shake Andy’s hand. “Well met!”  
  
Andy put his hand into Thor’s huge one, his eyes flicked up the massive bulk of the man before realisation dawned and he looked back at Coulson. “You work with the _Avengers_?”  
  
“It takes someone like Phil to keep us accountable,” Clint said, darting out of Natasha’s way, though she didn’t reach to smack him this time. She simply shook her head.  
  
“The Son of Coul is a great Midgardian Warrior!” Thor told him proudly. “We are pleased to find his death was contrived.” He nodded at the man, grinning before moving to try and talk Steve out of a few of the pancakes before they were finished.  
  
“I… Yes. I do. More or less,” Phil answered, standing and going over to him, putting a hand on Andy’s arm. “I’m sorry. I honestly thought we’d have everyone fixed up and gone before you came home.”  
  
Andy stared at him. “I’m not bothered by the fact that they’re here, Phil; more the fact that you hid this from… Oh God, you weren’t impaled at some Renaissance Faire, you were impaled when that whole…. Were you in  _New York_?!”  
  
“I can truthfully say I was not in New York,” Phil answered.  
  
“He was Ki.. Injured,” Bruce said, “in relation to the battle, however, yes.” He finished stitching up a slice in Clint’s leg and placed a dressing over it.  
  
“Don’t get cryptic on me right now. I hate it when you do that,” Andy replied before shaking his head. “We’ll talk about this later,” he told Phil, walking off to the kitchen to get refreshments for their guests.  
  
Steve was still in his Captain America duds, his cowl off and draped against his back as he flipped the pancakes, slapping the back of Thor’s hand with the spatula as he tried, yet again, to steal one.  
  
Andy closed his eyes a moment, steeling himself, and set about being hospitable.  
  
***  
  
The following morning had been quiet. Well rested, Clint would be able to fly them home, despite his injuries, and Phil drove the lot of them to the airport. Once all were on the Quinjet, and it nothing more than a speck in the sky, he went back to Andy’s home, picking up some doughnuts on the way. He slipped inside, shutting the door quietly, as usual, behind him.  
  
For once, however, he was caught a bit off guard. He hadn’t expected Andy to still be home when he returned.  
  
“Did they get off okay?” he asked, sat in the couch, a mug of coffee in his hands.  
  
“They did,” Phil replied, setting the box of doughnuts on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen for his own mug of coffee.  
  
“We need to talk.”   
  
Phil didn’t answer, but soon returned with a mug of his own. He set it on a coaster and folded his hands, resting his elbows on his knees and watching Andy calmly.  
  
“Well?” Andy prompted, watching him.  
  
“It really was a spear,” he replied. “I didn’t lie about that.”  
  
“Yeah, you sort of missed the part with the Avengers in it, though.”  
  
“They weren’t a team yet, at the time,” Phil responded calmly. “So there was nothing to miss.”  
  
Andy’s fingers clenched around the mug and he looked at him steadily. “Don’t… just don’t.”  
  
Phil sat up, taking his mug off the table and sitting back, regarding Andy quietly.  
  
He frowned, looking at his mug. “I feel like… I don’t even know who you are, anymore,” he said, looking at the drink.  
  
“I’m the same person I’ve always been,” Phil told him, his eyes showing worry. “My job is irrelevant.”  
  
“Phil, it’s not  _irrelevant_ , it’s what you spend most of your day doing. It’s what almost got you killed and it’s… something you hid from me for as long as I’ve known you. If you could hide this, what the hell else are you hiding?”  
  
“Promise nothing I tell you leaves this room,” Phil said. “There are very few people who know what I am willing to tell you. Telling you will bring the number up to four. Technically, it’s still classified.”  
  
He sighed and took a sip before nodding. “Okay.”  
  
“I’m an agent working for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. I have been since I was honourably discharged from the Army Rangers… at the,” he took a sip of his coffee. “At the close of the Korean War.”  
  
“The Korean war?” he replied, looking at him confused.  
  
Phil nodded. “You know those vintage Captain America cards I had? The ones I told you I spent two years collecting?”  
  
He nodded slowly.  
  
“It took me two years to collect them because they were released over the course of two years. When I was a kid.”  
  
“But that doesn’t make sense, you’re not that old.”  
  
“I was born in nineteen thirty-three.” Phil looked him steadily in the eye. “I’m seventy-nine years old. When I joined SHIELD, I immediately offered myself for an experiment. They were trying to recreate the serum that made Captain America. Obviously it didn’t work the way they’d hoped. But I age slowly, heal swiftly, and my reflexes are… enhanced.” He paused. “Those are my secrets. The part that isn’t the simple fact I work with SHIELD and was once an Army Ranger, is only known by two others, beside you and me.”  
  
“You’re like Captain America?” he replied slowly.  
  
Phil shook his head. “Not nearly. A poor shadow at best.”  
  
“But you’re old enough to be collecting your pension.”  
  
“I don’t suppose the ‘age is just a number’ defense works in this conversation? I’ll understand if… it bothers you. Significantly.” Phil looked away at that, reaching to open the box of doughnuts, hoping to distract his boyfriend.  
  
Andy ignored him, trying to think it all through. “You’re seventy nine, you work with the Avengers…. So who’s your evil boss?” he asked. “The one you complain about?”  
  
“Director Fury, of SHIELD,” he paused. “Clint, the man who got quippy last night? He’s the one who sends in his work by paper airplane. He really, really hates paperwork,” Phil offered.  
  
He shook his head the name of the head of that organization unfamiliar to most people but those that needed to know.  
  
“Where were you? When you got hurt.”  
  
“There was a skirmish before the battle over New York,” Phil replied. He set his mug aside and reached for Andy’s hand.  
  
“So you were caught in all of that?”  
  
“Somewhat. I was… impaled,” he decided upon, “by the enemy in order to show that nobody was safe from his plan. I had thought I was dying, and told my boss that-” he sighed. “I told him that even if they all weren’t getting along as well as it was needed for them to get along, so they could protect our world — that maybe my death would be what gave them the need to band together.” He looked down at their hands then up at Andy. “I didn’t expect to wake up.”  
  
Andy frowned, glancing away, his hand tightening around Phil’s. “So you’d have died and … You’re more than just a fucking symbol, Phil. You mean so much more than that. How can you just…”  
  
He squeezed the younger man’s hand. “But I didn’t die, Andy. I woke up, and you were there when I did.”  
  
“If I hadn’t come home… how long would you have kept this a secret?”  
  
“I can’t answer that.”  
  
“Why not?” he asked, pulling back.  
  
Phil let him. “Because it would depend on how our lives progressed.”  
  
“So it could’ve been never? You’d go off each morning and I’d never suspect that you might not come back.”   
  
“While the odds of my not coming back are slightly higher, there is nothing to say something might not happen to you, either.”  
  
“Slightly?” he replied, his face darkening. “The point is, is that you’d know where I was, what I was doing, and I’m hardly likely to be killed by a damn tuba.”  
  
“You did have the advantage of knowing I wasn’t dead,” Phil pointed out before finishing his coffee, setting it back on the coaster.  
  
“Yeah a real privilege, watching you fade away on a hospital bed and never knowing if you were going to wake up.” He swallowed and ran his hand tiredly over his eyes. “I’d have never known why. We could’ve spent our lives together with this massive secret. What sort of relationship is that?” He watched him quietly. “You don’t understand at all, do you?”  
  
“Andrew,” a clue that Phil was being entirely serious. “If we took the steps to, in fact, spend our lives together, I would have told you at that point in time. I would not have kept it from you, then.”  
  
“You just said that you don’t know how long you’d have kept it a secret!” He exclaimed, setting his now cold coffee on the table.  
  
“It could have been days, or years - hence. I don’t know,” Phil replied, watching him, still calm, though his eyes held a hint of worry.  
  
“I’m just having a tough time believing you, right now,” he said, picking up the mugs and taking them to the sink.  
  
Quiet, Phil remained in the living room, allowing Andy to have space to think. This was not the way he wanted to tell him, if he did - but it was done, as it apparently had to be. Now he would wait and see if it was too much for Them.


	5. Chapter 5

THREE WEEKS LATER  
  
***  
  
It had been a long week of wrangling Clint and Natasha through a mission, and Phil was glad to be back home at his New York apartment. He’d been offered a room at the Tower, the same as the other Avengers (and apparently the entire Stark family et al), but he liked having his own space - it was easier to keep neat.  
  
He put his keys on their hook by the door, before taking off his jacket and hanging it up against the door. He rolled up his sleeves and went about preparing himself something to eat.  
  
The sound of the doorbell filled the apartment, and Andy stood outside, his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie as he shifted about from foot to foot.  
  
Phil frowned slightly, moving to his door silently and checking through the peephole before he opened it. “Andy.”  
  
“Hi.” Andy looked at the man he hadn’t seen in about three weeks. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Of course.” Phil stepped back and held the door open for him, before shutting and locking it after he stepped in. “I didn’t know you were coming, I’ve just gotten back, myself.”  
  
“Well the orchestra’s on a week of holiday,” he replied, looking around the familiar apartment.  
  
“I don’t have much in the kitchen, just pasta - but I haven’t made anything yet if you’d like some?”  
  
He nodded. “Thanks,” he replied, thankful of the distraction from the awkward atmosphere. “I wasn’t sure if you moved back in here. Or if you were in that Avenger Tower place.”  
  
“They offered,” Phil said, moving back to the kitchen to get out a pot for water. “But I like having my own space. Things can get loud over there, and it’s not far to go if they need me to normalize things.”  
  
He nodded sitting down at the table. “To think, you’re the normal one.”  
  
“I’m the even tempered one,” Phil corrected, filling the pot and putting it on the stove, flicking the burner on before he moved to sit with him while the water waited to boil. “I missed you.”  
  
Andy blew out softly. “I missed you, too.”   
  
He smiled slightly, reaching out a hand to him, leaving it palm up on the table in invitation.  
  
Andy smiled a little in return, taking his hand. “I had to though,” he replied. “I needed to wrap my head around… well everything.”  
  
“I know. That’s why I came back here. I’m good at waiting,” Phil replied, a quirk to his lips. He squeezed his hand lightly, grateful the contact was accepted. “How did that turn out? The thinking.”  
  
He frowned softly. “It’s going to take a while to regain my trust, but… I just… I didn’t want to spend any more time away from you.”  
  
“You’re welcome to stay the rest of the break, here,” Phil said.  
  
He smiled softly. “Thank you.”   
  
Phil nodded. “I hope you’ll trust me again someday,” he said, giving his hand another squeeze before standing and putting the pasta into the now boiling water.  
  
“I hope so, too. I don’t like feeling like this,” he replied watching him work at the stove. “I really  _have_  missed you, my microwavable noodles are just not the same,” he teased gently, testing out the waters.  
  
Phil laughed quietly. “Next time I’ll make them from scratch - but as I said, this box of spaghetti and that can of sauce are all that’s edible in the apartment right now.”  
  
“How was your flight?”  
  
Andrew shrugged. “Daunting. I think I spent most of it wondering if you’d close the door in my face.”  
  
“I’d never close the door in your face,” Phil told him. “It’s not as though I left without telling you,” he said calmly, adding a drop of olive oil to the water and giving the stiff pasta a stir so it wouldn’t stick together.  
  
“I know,” he replied, before sighing. “But it feels like I don’t… I’m relearning who you are.”  
  
“Andy,” Phil sighed, stepping back over after setting his timer. He crouched beside his seat this time so he could look up at him, put him at some sort of ease. “I’m the same man I’ve always been. I just have a bit longer of an always than you thought.”  
  
He smiled sadly. “I have to find that out for myself,” he replied, kissing his palm.  
  
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he replied.  
  
Andy nodded, watching him, before leaning in and taking a longing kiss.  
  
Phil sighed into it, one hand coming up to cradle Andy’s head as he returned the kiss with all his heart.  
  
“I still love you, Phil,” he whispered. “That hasn’t changed.”  
  
“That’s good to know,” he said softly, stealing another gentle, loving kiss. “I love you, too,” he told him gently. “More every minute.” With that, he stood and went to check on the spaghetti and open the sauce.  
  
Andy smiled softly, grateful for the familiar warmth blooming in his chest as he watched him.  
  
Phil moved about the kitchen, pouring the pasta into the colander before returning it to the pot, pouring in the sauce and letting the still boiling hot spaghetti heat it as he mixed it in, adding a few spices from his cupboard.  
  
Andy got up and set the table, pulling out the juice from the fridge. “Where were you, before coming home? Or is it a secret.”  
  
“I’ve spent the past week in Hamburg, handling a few agents as they took care of some things,” Phil answered, getting down some plates and piling a bit of food on each.  
  
“They send you all the way out there?” he asked, surprised.  
  
“All over the world.”  
  
“Oh, that’s… okay.”  
  
Phil set the plates down on the table and went for the silverware and some napkins.  
  
“Phil, I’ve already set the table, come on,” he said, pushing the chair back. “Don’t be so nervous.”  
  
“Ah,” Phil sat down, adjusting the utensils. “Sorry about that.”  
  
“It’s okay, I think this is the closest I’ve ever seen you to getting flustered.”  
  
“That’s a first,” Phil agreed.  
  
“I have a talent,” he teased.  
  
“You have many talents,” Phil replied, raising his glass of water in a small toast to him before taking a sip.  
  
He smiled. “Aside from the cello, I mean.”  
  
” _Including_  the cello,” he corrected. “You move gracefully. You keep me on my toes. The way your nose crinkles when you’re reading a new piece of music and you hum the part when you’re half asleep and shuffling off to bed….”  
  
His cheeks darkened slightly and he picked at his food. “Thank you.”  
  
“Thank YOU for letting me back into your life,” Phil said softly.  
  
“Honestly? You never left it,” he replied as he ate.  
  
That warmed Phil, and he smiled a small, almost secret smile, watching Andy for several long moments before tucking in himself.  
  
“Thanks for letting me stay.”  
  
“You will always be welcome to stay with me, Andy.”  
  
He nodded with a smile. “So you haven’t thrown out my stuff, yet?”  
  
“Of course not, your things are still taking up half my dresser and closet, as per usual.”  
  
He smiled. “Oh  _half_. A couple of months ago, you complained that I’d taken, and I quote, ‘three fifths of it’,” he teased.  
  
“I may have compulsively taken an accounting in the weeks before I was finally sent out of country for some busy work.” Phil poked a fork filled with spaghetti into his mouth.  
  
Andy laughed softly and knocked his foot under the table. “It’s cute.”  
  
“I was off by half a fifth,” Phil half shrugged, but he shot Andy a glance and smiled, knocking his foot back.  
  
He smiled as he ate, growing more relaxed in Phil’s presence, reaching forward and taking his free hand.  
  
They weren’t there yet. But Phil took heart, as he laced their fingers together, that they would get there eventually. And they would be stronger for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for more in the Sons verse! There will be a prequel just for Phil and Andy (how they met) sometime in the nearish future. or at least in 2013


End file.
